Checkmate
by Asterous-Poison
Summary: What is it that you fear so much ? It's just a game of chess, nothing more. Thor is not smart enough to win anyway. Isn't he ? Post-Avengers story. Rated T for saftey (with Loki implied, you're never sure).
1. Chapter 1 : Let's talk Together

One word.

He just needs one word to unleash the Chaos. To break those slanderous chains and drown this world full of hypocrites in darkness and despair. And nobody would be able to stop him. Nobody. Not even Odin.

But there's only silence for him. His tongue is still prisoner of this accursed trap of metal that grips his jaw, digs into his face and doesn't even allow him to swallow properly. He just needs one word, but he knows all too well that he'll never have the opportunity to use it. And that frustration just fans his rage and his bitterness. Wrong move.

He will destroy them. All. Without any exception. He will rip their flesh to shred and damn their soul. He will do everything for that. He will make a deal with Hela, or even with this hustler of Mephisto if he has to. Just to be sure that nobody can taste the delicate peace of the Eternal Rest. To be sure that they will struggle in the throes of eternal agony. And when he will be done with Asgard, he will deal with Midgard. He's not interested in ruling anymore. He never was interested in ruling in the first place. Now, all he wants, all he craves, is destruction.

_Ah ah ah ! Such dark designs ! But, after all, it is true that you are the one who will bring the darkness of Ragnarök on your peers. _

They are **not** his peers. They never were.

_You are the one who will drown the Nine Realms in desolation, whether you like it or not. How sad…_

Sad ?! It's not sad ! That what he wants to ! Destroy, destroy, destroy ! Scatter Death and Terror on his path ! Trample on those who always denigrated him ! See them writhe in pain while he'll revel himself with their cries of agony! How delightful!

_Tss. Pitiful. You won't do anything at all. You are chained and locked up. Even Fenrir is less guarded than you. _

He will have his revenge. No matter what. No matter the price to pay or the time to wait. He can be patient after all. But he will have his revenge.

_Oh, but aren't you forgetting one thing ? What of the Golden Prince ? The Hero of the Nine Kingdoms won't stay with his arms crossed while you're wreaking havoc on the lands he is supposed to protect. What will you do when he will stand on your path ?_

Thor will die like the others. He will break his limbs and wrest his innards. He will make the ice spread on his wounds to slow down the bleeding and keep him alive, just long enough for him to gaze upon the fall of his Kingdom and the loss of his Family. And, who know ? Maybe that sight will make the golden prince fall into despair so he will willingly give up the Valhalla ? **That** would really be something.

_Break his limbs ? Shatter his mind? Ah ! What a joke ! You never was able to force him to his knees in the past, not even once. Sorcery or not, you never was able to measure up with him. Prove of that is that __**you**__ are chained in a dungeon while __**he **__is feasting with his friends. _

He just has to find the fitting plan. The perfect plan. The one that will free him from his prison and will make his chains explode. He will find it. He just needs time. Fools. They trapped themselves. They wanted to punish him in locking him here, but they just gave him all the time he needs to get better and think ! When the moment comes, he will make sure to thank them before he bursts their eyes.

_Oh my poor friend. Your twisted mind deludes itself with illusions far too pleasant for it. Getting better ? Who are you trying to fool ? You are starving. Since how long ? Ah ah ah ! You don't even know ! Your body is crumbling. You draw on reserves that you don't have anymore, and you force yourself to stay awake, just because you are scared of shadows. _

Hush.

_Oh the irony. Your own dreams terrorize you. You are like a child who cry after his mother when the time to go to bed has come. How low the mighty fall. _

Be Quiet !

_Don't you see it, ô God of Chaos? The only one who fear you. It's you._

SHUT UP !


	2. Chapter 2 : Let the Game Begin

**Chapter 2 : Let the Game Begin.**

* * *

The pain spreads in his arm and shouts the Voice down. Loki crushed his hand on the floor, dislocating the bones by the way, to come back to the reality. He growls and whines when he removes his fist from the hole he created on the stone in his rage. In his madness.

He doesn't remember when he heard the Voice for the first time. But it's here now, loyal companion he'd love to get rid of. He cannot even decide upon the gender of that stupid Voice. It always speaks in feeble whispers. But it's here. It rings in his skull like thunder. It's more and more urging, more and more sarcastic. It taunts him, scoffs at him, points out every flaw of his body and mind. He hates this Voice that never lies and shatters his hopes ceaselessly. He hates it just as much as he hates himself.

His eyes fall upon his wounded hand and he winces as he assesses the damages. The stones ruptured the skin and the phalanxes are twisted in an odd angle. And, oh Norns, it hurts like Hel. He sighs. He'll have to waste so much energy to heal it… In his youth, he could tear one of his limbs from the rest of his body, and then reweld it in no time at all, without even spilling one drop of blood. But now that the torrent of his magic is reduced to pathetic rivulets, the merest injury forces him to sacrifice all the energy he has left. He sighs again. He is tired. So tired…

"Loki."

Loki starts violently. All absorbed by the morbid contemplation of his twisted fingers, he hadn't heard his visitor's heavy footsteps resonate in the corridor that leads to his cell. He quickly raises his eyes and growls under his muzzle when he sees the very person he dreams of dissecting first.

Thor.

The First Born. The Golden Child. _Odinson._ That little arrogant rat that always had had all the privileges. His never-was-brother. Always decorated with his shiny armor and draped with crimson red. Mjölnir always hung up at his belt. Reassuring. Threatening. Silent witness of Loki's powerlessness.

Thor stares at Loki, with the surly look of a kicked puppy that comes see his master. Thor has that look since he dragged him back in Asgard. And it sickens him. Loki wants to tears them off the skull, just to see Thor's face. He would hear him scream from the pain and he would delight himself in them, knowing that it was him who caused Thor's agony.

The azure eyes of the God of Thunder fall on Loki's hand, and they widen.

"What happened to your hand ?" he asks, suddenly distraught.

That question makes Loki's blood boil. He growls again and looks straight at Thor, concentrating all his hatred on his eyes. He hopes it will be enough to make that oaf drop dead. Oh, how Loki would like to spit in Thor's face to throw him back his false pity !

But in the end, a strangled laugh rattles in his throat and makes his body shake. Prize idiot. He is muzzled but Thor still expects him to give an answer ? That's too funny.

_He is a fool. Simply beyond help. And he is supposed to be King. When he'll take the throne, it will be the beginning of the end for Asgard. And for the rest of the Realms, by the way._

That only increase Loki's laughter and forces him to bend to ease the pain that spread in his thorax (his ribs still hurt, courtesy of the Rabid Green Beast). For the first time, Loki and the Voice agree. Thor is an idiot.

Thor looks at Loki without understanding the cause of his brother's hysterical laughter. For one second, it freezes his blood and send a shiver run through his spine. But then, Thor sighs and shakes his head. It's been a long time since he last tried to understand Loki.

Thor steps forward until he reaches the railings. The sound of the boots on the crude stone brutally stops Loki's laughter and makes him recoil. The noise comes to him like tides: distant first, then deafening. Loki whines and crouches a little more. His senses throw into panic. His heart beats faster.

Loki doesn't fear Thor. Thor cannot enter in the cell or hurt him with words. But that noise… Thor is loud (he's always been). Each sound emitted in the accursed place reverberates in Loki's skull with dull violence. How Thor did manage to take him by surprise anyway ? The sound of hobnailed treads on the humid stone cannot be missed that easily in a place where silence reigns over everything. So how… ?

_You are weak. And you don't even try to make things better. You hadn't slept in months, yet you wonder why your senses get blunt? Pitiful._

Loki's teeth grate. That's not true ! He is not weak ! It's voice that distracted him ! Its never-ending whispers disturb him and don't let him think properly. It's its fault if he cannot find a plan to get out of here ! Wretched Voice ! Just shut up already!

_Tsk. Silvertongue indeed. You're really talented. You even manage to fool yourself._

Loki shakes his head to end that discussion that drains him. His eyes go back on Thor. The latter stares at him, with that disgusting glare full of a mix of resentment and pity. Loki holds the stare, half hoping that it will be enough to make Thor turn around and just go away (or set those hatred golden hairs aflame). But Thor doesn't leave. Quite the contrary. The God of Thunder lets himself fall ungraciously on the ground and settles down, cross-legged, near the railings, just out of Loki's reach.

_Oh ? Did he finally learn something ?_

Leisurely, as if everything was absolutely normal, Thor unfold on the stone a little bag of leather. That Loki could grab and turn into a weapon if he wanted to. But for now, Loki is just too taken aback to try anything. He just watches the Golden Prince align on the tanned skin roughly-carved pieces of wood. There is something drawn on the leather. Is that… ?

"I remember that you owed me a return match in the chess." Thor declares without even raising his eyes, still arranging the pieces on the makeshift board, with so much application that it's almost comical.

Loki arches one brow. Is he serious? He doesn't even remember having played chess with Thor in the first place…

_Hum… Truth to be told, you don't remember much before the episode with Jötunheim…_

… And that oaf wants to play chess with him ? Right here ? Right now ? On the foulest underground of Asgard's Palace ?

_Maybe he has lost his mind ? Maybe he is as insane as you now ? It appears that insanity is hereditary._

Thor and Loki don't share the same blood. Heredity doesn't apply for them.

_That was a joke._

Thor finally raises his eyes and resumes his staring. He blinks one, two, three times.

"You remember how to play, right ?"

_And do __**you**__ remember how to use that little thing we call 'brain' ? From what we can see, the answer is not that obvious…_

Loki sighs and rolls his eyes. To whom does Thor think he's speaking with ? There is no existing game of strategy that escapes Loki's mastery. And that condescending tone… that is new. Who Thor thinks he is ?

"Let's play, brother".

Loki's teeth cringe on the metal when he hears the word. He puts all his hatred on his eyes, but it's quite useless. Thor doesn't care anymore. It's far so easier to escape the poison when the snake is gagged. Rat.

_See ? Heredity. You, too, don't care about others' feelings._

Loki doesn't even bother to try and shut the Voice up. The Voice doesn't exist after all. And, there is something on Thor's tone that intrigues him. It's not the usual supplicant one. That… that is not a request. That is… an order ? Did he just… gave **him** an order ?!

_Oh oh ! Our dear Thor finally decided himself to use his Crown Prince's authority on you ? How touching. Odin must be __**so**__ proud ! That being said, he is the Futur Ruler of Asgard. And you, you're not even Asgardian anymore. Forced to admit that it would be a shame if he denied himself that little pleasure… _

So Thor gave him an order, huh ? How dare he !? Does he truly believe that Loki will just obey ? What a fool ! He quite never obey the King of Asgard. Why would he obey the Prince ?

_Rebellion then, huh ? But Thor is quite… stubborn, to say the least. And he's a spoiled brat. He won't go until you give him what he wants._

Good for him. Loki is not the one wasting his time.

White and black pieces are now standing on the board, ready to battle. Thor still glares at Loki, silently, intently. The God of Thunder observes his brother for a time, and then, smiles. That sneering smile from their time in the training field, when Thor wanted to provoke Loki and force him to battle against him.

"What's wrong little brother ? Afraid to lose against me ?"

Loki growls. Oh. But. How. **Dare. **He ?! He and his intellect that barely surpasses the one of a stuffed batrachians ?!

But even if Loki's blood is boiling with rage and outrage, Thor, him, remains impassive. And Loki understands. There is a trick here. All that… It's too strange, too out of place, even for him. What Thor is hiding ?

_Getting paranoid now ? It's just a game of chess ! What is that you fear ? You said it yourself: Thor is not smart enough to win. Not in this game. So why the hesitation ? Just play and humiliate him already !_

Loki sighs. He doesn't like this. All this. But the Voice has a point here. The temptation to defeat Thor is… appalling. So, grudgingly, Loki comes near the railings and sits, too, in front of his not-brother.

_He he he… See ? He got you._

Loki's answer to the Voice (it's a hypocrite) is a muffled grumble. On the other side of the railings, Thor's smile widen on his face. And it's so bright that it could hurt Loki's eyes.

"Black or white, brother ?"


	3. Chapter 3: First step to Victory

**Chapter 3 : First step to Victory.**

* * *

Of course, Loki won. Without even trying.

_Was there even any doubt?_

Games of reflection hold no secret to him. And Thor makes things so easier. He is impetuous, impatient, falls in every little traps (even the most obvious ones) with such hast that it's almost disconcerting. This being said and even if Loki is the incarnation of hypocrisy, he must admit that Thor's perseverance is admirable. It's impossible to discourage him. He doesn't give up. Ever. He keeps faith until his immaculate King is cornered, surrounded by an army of Dark pieces.

It's a resounding Victory for Loki.

_Oh, all hail to Loki…_

A Victory that makes Loki smile under the muzzle and fills his eyes with devious and condescending satisfaction. The satisfaction grows a little more when Thor, as his White King finally falls, let escape a sudden and angry punch on the floor, soon followed by a frustrated sigh.

_The Spoiled Golden Child is not used to defeat, huh? Well, that's sooo bad._

However, and much to Loki's disappointment, Thor doesn't say a thing. He doesn't comment Loki's victory, doesn't try to deny it and doesn't accuse him of treachery or deception. Thor looks upon the makeshift board, seemingly elsewhere, and silent. Then, he sighs again, gathers up the pieces scattered across the floor (mostly white ones) and lets them get back with their black sisters on the board of leather. Thor closes the bag, stands, turns around and walks away. Just before he leaves the room for good, he stops, turns slightly the head to look over his shoulder.

"I will come back tomorrow" he declares.

And Thor disappears, leaving Loki alone in the dark, as perplexed (if not more) than when Thor asked him to play chess with him. He is not even sure all that wasn't just a umpteenth hallucination born from his twisted mind. Silence stretches and Loki feels his body going numb. He starts when the Voice, as teasing as ever, soughs again.

_"I will come back tomorrow"? Doesn't it sound like a threat to you? You should worry. Maybe he will stone you with chess pawns?_

Loki rolls his eyes and shrugs.

Nonsense.


	4. Chapter 4 : Degeneration

**Chapter 4 : Degeneration.**

* * *

Thor does come back the day after, just like expected. And at the same time, too. Loki knows it thanks to the rare torches that light the hallway. They always smolder at the same pace. And when they are so worn out that the flames can be blown by the faintest draft, they renew themselves in the blink of the eye, just to start smoldering again.

_Oh magic is so convenient… Why bother go down in that filthy rat-hole to replace three miserable candles when magic can do it ?_

Loki uses their degree of wear to keep track of time. A pastime like any other one. He looks at the flames until his eyes are all burnt by the light. And when his vision totally disappear, Loki curses Asgard and all her inhabitants while swearing that he'll use those torches to set that Kingdom full of hypocrites ablaze.

_Here we go again… You're becoming a pyromaniac, not even retained anymore above everything else. A new flaw to add on the list… It's becoming quite a lot, don't you think ?_

Flames are burning with the same intensity than yesterday when Thor comes back, his leathered bag in his hands. Again, without saying anything, Thor sits cross-legged in front of the bars and meticulously arranges the pieces on the board (white ones in front of himself, black ones in front of Loki). When he's finished, Thor stares at Loki with insistence. Loki stares back without blinking. Like the day before, he tries to put all his hatred in his eyes and wishes that Thor falls stone dead, right on his spot. While he's at it, he also calls the Odinson fool, idiot and oaf (among other things). Just for the pleasure.

For any answer, Thor smiles and put one of his pawns forward. The same as yesterday. Then he waits. Loki stares at the Thunder God a little longer, then sighs as loudly as he can with the muzzle on and takes place in front of the chessboard.

_And the party begins !_

Loki wins again, with the same ease as the day before. This time, when the white King is taken, Thor doesn't move, but Loki does see the muscles of his jaw and knuckles twitch.

_Oh ! The poor thing ! Look how disappointed he is ! He truly believed he had a chance to win !_

Thor picks up the pieces, folds the bag on them and stands.

"I will come back tomorrow."

And Thor leaves, without further ado.

* * *

Days turn weeks. Thor's visits are so punctual that Loki wonders how he does. Truly. Thor comes every day, at the same time. Without ever failing. Thor never was that assiduous. It's almost scary.

_Scary ? You should be flattered ! The Golden Prince, future King of Asgard, never fail to find time to keep company to his renegade of a brother (who never was his brother, by the way), when it would be soooo easy for him to do like the dungeons were empty…_

Loki sighs. The splitting headaches are permanent now. The light is too bright for his eyes and the never-ending whispers of that accursed Voice make his skull explode. Literally. Not so long ago, he would have given anything, everything, to break his chains and rip Asgard to shreds. Now, all he wants is to shut the Voice up.

"It's your turn, Loki."

And to be left in peace by Thor, too. Seriously, does Thor really have nothing else to do than play chess with him in the dungeons ? If he was winning, Loki would understand. But Thor perpetually lose. That's pathetic.

_Tss. You say that because it's becoming hard for you to win. No ?_

"Loki ?"

Loki looks at Thor and there are daggers in his green eyes. How is he expected to play a game of strategy if Thor doesn't let him time to strategize ?! Just shut up already ! Having to listen the ramblings of a non-existent Voice is exhausting enough without having to deal with a suddenly talkative barbarian who Loki'd love to have stuffed.

Thor return the glare, absolutely not impressed to say the less. As always. He knows who has the upper hand here and even if Loki's thoughts are full of blood and murder and carnage, with the muzzle on and his magic off, he is as harmless as an infant.

Which is also why Loki wonder about Thor's worried look he carries whenever he comes lately. It's bothering him. Almost as much as those golden hairs which grow longer and longer as time passes by. They are ridiculously long now. (Some locks are even decorated with little braids. What kind of fearless warrior decorate his hair like a blushing maiden anyway ?!)

_Do you think the Lady Sif braid his hair ? Unless the sweet Frigga does ? Hum… Yes, it must be Frigga. The lady Sif does not possess the subtle delicateness required for that kind of work. Nor the patience. But doesn't he look good with those braids ? A lovely lady that is ! Now, where is the bridal dress ? Isn't it missing ? A memories…_

Loki almost strangles himself with laughter when he hears that. The Voice is annoying, but that really was well found. He wouldn't have said better himself. His uncontrollable fits of laughter even dissipate the pain that pulse in his head for sweet, precious seconds (it will come back later though, it's a revengeful thing).

Thor just stares at him, frowning, but somehow perplex.

"What is so funny, brother ? You no longer have your Queen to have your back now."

Loki merely shrugs while trying to calm the fits of cough that came after the laughter. As if the loss of the Queen would cost him Victory. Thor only managed to take her because that was part of the plan. That's all.

_Hum, excuse-me, what was the plan again ? Make a succession of poor moves ? If it is the case, maybe you should change said plan. If you still want to win, that is. There, why don't you put the bishop on F5 ? That'll block his rook and knight in one move._

Irritated, Loki makes his move more savagely than necessary.

_… Or you also can sacrifices a rook to take his Queen. _

Loki viciously grabs the white Queen and throws it on Thor's face. The God of Thunder easily dodge it, his eyes never leaving Loki's and the latter immediately regret his angered gesture when the pawns hit the stones of the wall. The noise that comes from this move, as futile as puerile, rings in his entire skull with such violence that his eyes turn blind and that Loki finds himself huddle up on the floor, hands pressed tight on his temples, nails digging deep into his scalp, fighting a wave a nausea that almost make him gag.

_…Well done…_

"…Well done…"

After that, Thor stays silent until his King is taken too. He lost. Again. But Loki draws no satisfaction from it. The Voice (which is much less resentful that he thought it would be) had to guide him through the rest of the game, his own mind too bogged down in the painful torments of his headaches to think about anything.

Thor is so used to lose against Loki that there is no reaction at all now. It looks like he couldn't care less. But, again, it's just a game of chess. Thor would make such a poor King if he'd let his anger and deception show on his face, just because he lost at a game. However, his gaze lingers on Loki and, in the blue eyes, that mix of pity and disgust which infuriate Loki the most come back. Loki growls under his muzzle and he draws back into the darkest corner of the cell, his back purposely turned toward Thor. He is already nauseous. No need for him to have to look at that nauseating look.

"I will come back tomorrow."

And Thor leaves the room.

_… Are you alright ?_

He will be alright when he will be left in peace. When the silence will finally soothe his mind and wipe away his headaches like a bad dream. When he won't have to answer a Voice that never existed from the beginning and visibly delights itself by reviving his migraines.

_Oh, I see. You're brooding. Alright ! I'll leave you to your bad mood if it's what you want ! Anyway, we both know very well that in one or two hours, you will beg me to talk again. After all, without me, how will you lure the dreadful sleep far from you ? Tss, you ungrateful psychopathic despot !_

And just like that, the Voice is gone. Loki is left alone, truly alone. He repeats himself again and again that the Voice is wrong. That he is not crazy and exhausted enough to really need it.

But the _Silvertongue_ is dulled now.

For Loki doesn't believe the lie anymore.


	5. Chapter 5 : The Muzzle goes Off

**Chapter 5 : The Muzzle goes Off.**

* * *

Over time, Loki notices that the pieces are changing. They become more elaborate, more detailed. The crude wood turns polished, then varnished. Touches of color appear on them, like tiny ornaments. Red on the white pawns, green on the blacks ones. Crimson and emerald. Their own attributes. Thor turned the pieces into avatars. And Loki finds that totally stupid.

Thor never wins. And will never. What the point of turning those stupid pawns into their alter egos in order to symbolize their fight when he knows there is only defeat for him at the end ? Because as long as Loki is Thor's opponent, Thor will always lose. He swore it. If Loki cannot defeat Thor hand to hand, on a real battlefield, then he will settle for the small victories on the checkerboard.

_Now that's just petty. I see your behavior become more and more adult and mature! But you're improvising ! Go on !_

Loki lets escape a long and weary sigh. Nothing good happens when he tries to argue with the Voice. Just an awful headache that makes him want to tear his head off, just to end it once for all. So better not to answer. Let the mad whispers flow on him like water on rocks. No answer. That's the key. The Voice will tire in time.

_Mimicking opossum now ? I know that tactic. It might be effective. But you will tire before me, that I can tell you. But you should thank me, instead of trying to shut me off. If I weren't here, who would protect you from the Monsters who lies in your sleep ?_

Thor's face appears in his mind before he can even think about anything else.

_Thor, huh ? Ha ha ha ! My poor friend! You're even more pitiful than I thought! That being said, you're probably right. Even after all you did, he would protect you against your enemies, even if it means risking his life. The fool._

Loki shakes ragingly his head to chase images and words from his head. The sudden movement makes cling loudly the mails of his shackles on his wrists. Shackles which seem heavier each day. He cannot move the way he would like to with them on. They cut into his wrists. Chafe his skin and cause annoying itches. He is unable to stop scratching his hands and forearms. He skinned his arms because of that. The blood that ran from the wounds only worsened the itches. Damned shackles.

_Even if they weren't there, you wouldn't move more anyway. You don't have the strength to move anymore._

He has to agree with that. Every movement exhausts him, gives him unspeakable stiffness. It is because of the fatigue. That, and the hunger. Two things more and more difficult to ignore. Before, he used to pace his cell back and forth, like a caged lion. Now, all he can do is curl up against a dark corner and watch the candles burn out until Thor appear, his leather bag secured in his hand. Only at that moment his muscles remember how to move correctly long enough to let him sit in front of the bars and win the game. But as soon as Thor leaves, it's like all his forces are siphoned away. If he didn't know better, Loki would think that Thor cursed him with some spell.

_Oh no. It's just that he trained you well. Now, you're a perfect little dog, which wails its tail in before its master and mopes when said master is gone._

Those words give him nausea and make his heart beats too fast. His skin burns so much that he feels like a fire is consuming his entrails. To dissipate the dizziness which threatens to overwhelm him, but also to make the Voice **shut up**, Loki punches the floor. **Hard**. The pain is his last resort. The very last rampart against the total madness. He doesn't try to heal his hand anymore. To what end ? It will be smashed again tomorrow or the day after. So the bones stay twisted and he lets the blood dry on his skin and form dark scabs which will worsen the itches even more. But at least, that macabre spectacle keeps him entertained for a while.

_Tss. No time for your sick enthrallment this time. It appears that you have company._

Loki jolts. The Voice… He didn't think it would come back so fast… Did his condition worsened again ?

_Pff… Is there even any doubt about it ? You're mad. Get over it. But for now, focus, will you ? I said you have company._

Loki looks up. The Voice is right. Heavy footsteps are echoing in the corridor. Thor ? Loki casts a quick glance to the candles. If it's really Thor, well he had to be very bored because he comes earlier than usual. And he is not alone. One, two, three, four… Five people are coming with him.

_Oh no. They are more._

Yes. Loki hears them now. They are about ten people. But some of them don't wear armor. That's why Loki didn't hear them first.

_Well well well… Who would be crazy enough to come and taunt the Maker of Chaos in his own lair ?_

Thor. Of course. Always with his precious crimson cape draped on his shoulders and lovely Mjölnir settled on his belt. But this time, no leather bag with makeshift chess game in his hand. Instead, he came with eight soldiers in full armor and three Grand Wizards of the Court.

_Oh look the lovely gathering you have here ! And all for you with that !_

Oh joy.

Thor scans Loki from head to toes before his eyes fall on the injured hand. Fresh blood is seeping from it. His face darkens, but he remains silent. He looks slowly at Loki again. A wave of static electricity runs through the room.

_Aouch. His Royal Highness Thor is not happy. You could have made an effort. You know that His Royal Highness does not like when you mutilate yourself so !_

Loki looks back with blinking, daring Thor to say anything about his wound, to ask him again why he does that. He hates when Thor pretends to care about his health. That hypocrite. If he felt really concerned, he would have sent a physician to him earlier. Or he would have freed him.

"Guards, the key please."

The Great Master's Voice makes them both jump a little. Trying to poison someone with the eyes only requires some amount of concentration. Loki quite forgot Thor wasn't alone.

The soldiers look at each other, hesitating. Then one of them comes forth, searches feverishly among a bunch of keys (it's interesting, incidentally, how common an enchanted key can look for those without informed eyes) and, when he finally finds the good one, he gives it to the old Wizard. The Great Master's fingers brush lightly on the rusty metal while he mutters an odd spell in a forgotten language. The two others Wizards join him in his incantation. A golden light appears on the bars and turns gradually into runes. A chilling wind fills the room.

A sudden _click_ rings out.

Then the door snaps open.

Before he can even think about seizing this opportunity to escape, two soldiers rush into the cell and point the tip of their sword on Loki's neck, the cold metal resting in a threatening way on his skin.

"One move, just one, and you'll be regretting that you're not dead already." hiss one of the guards.

Loki smiles under his muzzle. Ah, threats… He survived at least two wars, plus one deadly fall from the Bifröst, a never ending trip in the Void, and much worse. And they really think they will make him submit with mere threats ? That's so funny he can't hold back his laugh.

Immediately, the pressure of the metal on his neck increases.

"What's so funny, freak ?!"

"Drop it Borus. He's crazy anyway."

Loki's eyes slide on the soldier who has just spoken. They pierce him like two sharp daggers, dissect every layer of his body, before doing the same for the other guards. All their muscles are tensed to their maximum. Their pupils are dilated. Their jaw shut tight. Loki knows well what causes that. He always loved seeing that sentiment spread on someone's face, especially on those who proclaimed themselves brave among the braves. What was it again? Ah, yes.

_Fear._

The soldiers are afraid. The Wizards too. To their credit, they hide it a little better than the guards. But their beautiful stainless garments trimmed with arrogant gems cannot conceal the way their muscles tense despite themselves, nor the tiny beads of sweat that form on their forehead. And in spite of all the scorn and aversion their try to display on their haughty face when they enter the cell too, Loki can clearly see the truth.

All are terrified. Terrified by him.

_It's ludicrous, don't you think ? You're supposed to be harmless here._

No, no it's not. It's thrilling.

He who was always mocked, denigrated, called ''coward'', ''unworthy'', ''weak'', he who is locked away and chained, he is the one who scares the Hel out of them. Isn't it the proof of his all-power ? Who could pride himself of such feat, except maybe Odin ?

_Well… Truth to be told, I can indeed think of a name. Oh, I have it on the tip of my tongue. It begins with a T. Let's see… Was it Tha…_

Loki flinches violently and gives out a feral snarl. The Wizard who had crouched to his right lets escape a yelp of terror and draws back hastily like he had been bitten by a rabid dog. A guard immediately strikes Loki across the face with the pommel of his sword. The copper taste of blood spread in Loki's mouth. He had bitten his tongue.

"You will stay put, do you hear me, Monster ?!"

"Enough !"

Thor's mighty and unforgiving voice vibrates in the dungeon. His voice has the final authority of a true King. All he had to say was a single word and all stopped right where they were, petrified and abashed, just like children caught in the middle of a prank. Or is it because Thor now has Mjölnir in his hand and because said Mjölnir is sparkling with blue and threatening lightnings ?

_Sure, that might work too._

Thor steps forward. The sound of his hobnailed boots on the stones of the floor makes Loki flinch. Damned echo.

"Loki may be your Prince no longer, but remains my Brother. You shall treat him with due respect."

Without warning, Thor points Mjölnir's head on the guards and the intensity of the lightnings increases.

"You touch him one more time and I will crush your bones." He growls. "Is that clear ?"

The soldiers gulp with almost perfect synchronization. It's funny to see what military discipline can do in matter of coordination.

"For… Forgive us your Highness… It won't happen again…"

If their answer had any importance for Thor, he hides it amazingly well. He turns toward Loki and points Mjölnir on him.

"As for you, you'd better behave. Don't make me use Mjölnir on you. Again."

Tss. Brother, but not too much, hun ? The hypocrite. On Midgard, he never ceased to repeat again and again how he cared for Loki, how he had always cared for Loki. But still, he would crush his skull with his accursed Hammer without any hesitation. And they call Loki the treacherous one. At least, since his return, Loki never tried to hide his designs. He did tell clearly that he will destroy Asgard. And the eight other worlds.

_Bah… Don't pay attention to him. He's not that worthy._

Seeing that he gets nothing more than a murderous glare full of hatred from his brother (nothing unusual, really) and since the guards draw back a little so Loki can breathe without risking to have his throat sliced (accidentally or not) by their sword, Thor lowers Mjölnir. He lets die the lightnings, but he keeps the Hammer in his hand. Just in case.

"Sir Vaslof, you may continue."

"Thank you, your Highness." The Great-Master answers, bowing a little (not too much, Loki notes. His back must be painful). He then turns towards his two subordinates. "Sigurd, Fergus, go back to your position."

The two Wizards comply hastily, but the one who yelps earlier seems a bit more reluctant. Maybe he thinks that Loki can truly bite through the muzzle. Poor mite. They place themselves on each Loki's side and begin to chant magic spell. Loki rolls his eyes. No wonder that Sorcery is so denigrated in Asgard. The so-called higher representatives of the Dark Art make the lesser ritual look like an obnoxiously boring farce. Does he, Loki, need all that ostentation to cast a spell ?

_Surely not. But what do you want ? You never had their title, but you always were more powerful than them, even when you were just an ''apprentice''. Be forbearing with them._

They are nothing but a bunch of senile botchers.

_Did you never ask yourself why Odin was considered as the most powerful Sorcerer of the Nine Realms ? In a Kingdom full of blind ones, the one-eyed is King._

The Great-Master (so, his name is Vaslof, hun ? That's strange. He always thought he was named Dario. Did so much time passed since his fall in the Void ?) walks closer too. He mumbles unintelligibly while his hands draw a sign in the air. Loki knows that sign. _Rmr. _Arrival. He tilts his head. What is that old thing up to ? What are they **all** up to ?

The golden light is back. It's between Vaslof's hands this time. Soon, it changes into a long succession of rings, all dark-red runes inlaid in them. A chain. Another one. They cannot be serious… How much more will he have to bear before they are all satisfied ? Where will they put it this time ? To his ankles ? Do they fear that he will destroy the walls of his cell if he runs into them ? Seriously. Brainless imbeciles. All of them.

Vaflof gets a little closer again and looks up at Loki.

"It may hurt a little, I fear. I'm sorry."

He doesn't look really sorry at all.

_Oh… Oh wait a minute… Those runes, on the shackles… This is…_

"Sigurd, Fergus. Now."

The two Wizards simultaneously draw the same sign on the fetter Loki already wears on his wrists. _Hníga_. Opening.

All of a sudden, Loki feels all his magic rushing back to him, overwhelming him like a titanic wave. The sensation is disorientating, oppressive almost. But o how exquisite. His magic. His dear magic is back. He can feel it bursting in every fiber, filling every cell of his body. It's not that pathetic, shaky, dying sparkle anymore. Now, it is the powerful blazing fire it always used to burn inside of him before. All that power… Finally… Finally !

But suddenly, it's all gone.

As abruptly as it came back to him, his magic is reduced to nothing. With it, are gone his power, his newly reformed strength. And his last drops of hope. The emptiness spreads through him like an insidious poison, eating away everything on its way.

And when there is nothing left, when the last bit of his _Sei__ð__r_ is annihilated, comes the pain. Dazzling, harrowing. Unbearable. His eyes turn blind. His lungs don't remember how to absorb air. Inside of him, the fire starts anew. Except this time, it's his nerves that are burning, releasing shots of electricity through all his body, causing his muscles to contract in a totally anarchic and painful way.

Something is tearing his flesh apart, limb by limb, fragment by fragment.

So Loki screams.

The muzzle slashes his face, muffles his cries of agony. Oh Norns… The pain… Now, Loki is panicking. What have they done ?! What have they done to him ?! His _Sei__ð__r… _His _Sei__ð__r_ is not here anymore ! Gone ! All gone ! Before… before they came, it was feeble, yes, an insulting parody of what it was before his captivity… But it was still here, comforting and soothing ! And now… Now it disappeared, simply and plainly ! It cannot be ! They wouldn't dare… ! Don't they know ?! He needs his magic… ! Need it like he needs the blood flowing in his veins and the air which should fill his lungs right now… If they take it from him…

_Enough ! You're not in danger. Calm down and focus !_

Loki tries to breathe. He really does. To calm himself. But his lungs stay desperately empty and it only increases his terror a little more. He feels his body heavily crash on the floor, his muscles too stressed and crossed by uncontrollable spasms to keep him seated. On the floor, his head explodes. As does the pain.

_Calm down ! Hey ! Do you hear me ?! Calm yourself, you fool !_

Little by little, his blind eyes find the light again. Finally, he is able to take short intakes. Forms appear. Then sounds and odors come to him. The taste of blood fills his mouth. All is clouded and he can't part the up from the down, but Loki knows where he is. The shapes come closer and bent above him. He tries to crawl away, to trash, to flee. But soon one of the shadows takes his wrists and pins him down. Words are drawn on lips misshapen by an awful grin. No… No no no no no…! Please…!

_It's alright, stop fighting. Let them win. You have to let them win. There is no other way._

No ! He can't be there ! This… All this… Nothing is real ! Not. Real. Awake… He must stay awake…!

_No ! Don't ! _

"LOKI !"

With a jolt, Loki opens his eyes (when did he close them ?) and gulps the air like a drowning man finally coming back to the surface. The dusty floor covers with grey damp stones. The threatening sky with red clouds slowly turns back into an old rocky ceiling where spiders of all times weaved webs with odd, yet fascinating patterns. The sinister shadows blur, then stretch to change into pathetic wrinklies in white robes, shaking soldiers with shiny armors. And, bent above him, Thor.

"Loki ? Do you hear me ?"

Loki looks at the Thunder God without really understanding what is happening. His head is incredibly painful, as are his vocal cords. He can hear his blood pounding on the sides of his skull, and the sound is throbbing. He cannot stop shaking, nor he can keep his breathing under control. Something (fingers ?) snaps just in front of his eyes, making him jump. But the sharp noise somehow allows him to come back to his senses. A little.

"Focus brother. Do you hear me ? Answer me."

Thor has his eyes locked on him. His voice is firm and collected, but Loki can decipher in those blue eyes worry and incomprehension. Loki slowly nods. Yes, he can hear him. How could he not ? His voice is so loud it reverberates in his very bones…

Thor lets escape a relieved sigh and shifts. The pressure on Loki's wrists lifts. Oh… So Thor was the one pinning him down… In his turn, Loki tries to tear himself from the floor. Bad idea. His non-coordinated movements and his spinning head make him sick. He falls back heavily on his right side and soon he finds himself fighting the gagging reflex of nausea. Fortunately, after so much with an empty stomach, he has nothing left to vomit. If it wasn't the case, with the muzzle on…

Thor crouches by sides and sets a comforting hand on his back. Loki is too exhausted to beat it off. Truth to be told, he feels too exhausted to do anything.

They stay like that a moment, waiting for the crisis to pass and for Loki to breathe more or less normally again. But a hoarse (and clearly annoyed) fit of cough makes them both start and reminds them (for the second time) that they are not alone in the cell. Vaslof steps forward, Sigurd and Fergus right on his tracks, like two trained dogs. Tss. They have not any pride.

"Well, my Lord. All went well in the end. It appears that the prisoner can perfectly bear his new shackles."

The murderous glare that Thor casts over his shoulder make Sigurd, Fergus and the guards shudder. All draw back and locate themselves as far as possible from their Prince. To his credit, Vaslof not even flinch. He straightens his robes with affected gestures and looks down at Loki with clear contempt. That mangy dog. He wasn't that proud when Loki still had enough venom in his eyes to make his Holiness the Great-Master fear to come too near him. The old thing only dared to approach once he was surrounded by soldiers and dedicated (yet fearful) Wizards (no need to mention the threatening Mjölnir in Thor's fist).

"Sealing someone's _Sei__ð__r_ never was something pleasant, for no one. A thankless and exhausting task, that is." He explains quietly, while dusting his hands. "Mark my words, your Highness, your… _brother_" and he spits the word with a scorn he doesn't even try to hide "should think himself lucky to come out only with some superficial convulsions."

Superficial… convulsions…? The bastard…

"The All Father was merciful enough to impregnate those shackles with his own _Sei__ð__r _so the prisoner won't die, even deprived from his magic. He should be grateful to be still alive and to benefits of our King's goodness, instead of throwing this shameful act in order to gain your pity."

There is a pulse. And a wave of electricity pours out on the room. Then another one, more powerful. Scarier, too. The all air tenses and it's become hard to breath. Loki does feel grateful. Not for Odin's so call mercy, but for his superficial convulsions (which were apparently part of an act he would have set up unwittingly) and their aftereffects that still ravage his body. The spasms running through his body hides perfectly well the quivering of fear he cannot suppress. He doesn't have much pride left, so he can preserve some…

"Sir Vaslof, if you truly value your life and titles, I recommend that I don't hear your damned voice for the next weeks. At least."

The Great-Master takes a few steps back, seemingly afraid. Since his banishment on Midgard, the Prince became much more affable and wise. That doesn't make his wrath less frightening.

Vaslof lowers his head, ashamed. Being berated like that, in front of his subordinates…

"Get out. All of you." Growls Thor. His voice is low, steady, perfectly controlled. And it's terrifying. The perfect illustration of "calm before storm".

All comply and get out the dungeon with hast and relief. Better be away when the God of Thunder is angry.

When they are finally alone, the tension in the air disappears and allows Loki to breathe again without having his lungs burning. At his sides, Thor sighs.

"Don't pay attention to him. Vaslof is a boastful, arriviste and self-centered man. No one understood why Master Dario named him Great-Master when he left his duties. But he is here now, and we have to compose with him."

The words don't seem to reach Loki. He is still lying on his right side, unmoving except for the few trembles that still rack his body, breathe even, at last. He looks like he is sleeping. But he is not. His eyes are still open, vaguely staring at the floor.

"Are you alright, brother ?"

The green eyes slowly slide to meet Thor's. There is no anger in those pupils. No venom, no untold threat, not even the cold scheming that usually rest there. There is just a great weariness, coupled with a bitter resignation.

Loki is defeated. His magic has been annihilated, purely and solely. Now, even if words were returned to him, he still would be incapable of casting the lesser spell, not even the easiest. There is no lock on those new shackles, which mean that they have to be opened with an incantation. A thing beyond Loki's abilities now. This time, it's really over. He will rot here, in this infect dungeon, for the rest of his life. Just like Odin told him.

Thor observes his brother silently. He is well aware that nothing he could say to ease his pain. Loki is a criminal who spread Chaos through three of the Nine Realms. His punishment is nothing but the fair consequence of his deed, and his dangerousness easily justifies Odin's disposals. Thor is not supposed to feel sorry for him. Hel, he is not even supposed to be here to begin with. But still, Thor never was good when he had to follow Odin's orders.

Without saying a word, Thor stands, then with slow and cautious gestures, he straightens Loki and helps him sit, his back resting on the wall of his cell. Loki doesn't fight him. He can't be more humiliated now. So he lets Thor kneel before him and slides his hands behind his head. He has no reaction when a _click_ is suddenly heard. He just docilely opens his mouth to allow Thor to fully remove the muzzle. Loki doesn't feel anything when he is finally freed from that accursed piece of metal. He just stares at it without really seeing it.

Thor places a little phial at Loki's feet.

"There. For the wounds on your face. It should work on your hand too. Eir told me it might sting, though. Sorry." Thor murmurs.

He really looks sorry.

Thor hesitates a moment, then stands once more and goes out the cell, closing the door behind him with the key Borus left for him. He stays before the bars, visibly wanting to say or do a little more but not daring to.

"I will come back tomorrow." He says finally.

And Thor disappears.


End file.
